What Would You Do?
by Ren Mashiro
Summary: Professor Granger makes an announcement that launches a grueling conversation about the fundamental rights and wrongs during war time.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own anything because I am not nearly amazing enough to be J. ... *Openly Weeps*_

The news cut through the students mercilessly causing them to react with varying degrees of astonishment and resentment. Tensions were at an insurmountable high. Every individual, though too young to have been a part of the war, had been affected by it in their own way; some were orphans, others had family still in Azkaban, many simply had resentment passed on to them through being either muggleborn or pure blood. The news had quickly sparked a passionate debate about the Second Wizarding War and roles each notable "character" (as Hogwarts: A History's newest addition referred to them as) played in it. The epicenter of the verbal ping-pong match was the Death Eater mentality of the, then, students and their actions during the war.

"But you were the same age!" Shouted the impassioned girl, or young woman one should say in reality. "It was a choice, a decision, that he made. Why would he be pardoned for his actions when he should have been able to see it was wrong! He should be in Azkaban!"

Their History of Magic professor sighed heavily and sunk uncharacteristically into her shoulders and leaned into the edge of her desk, an equally rare sight, with a forlorn look on her face that told them she had resigned herself to delving further into this conversation than she had intended. Though her student's declaration was understandable, she was tired of disproving it. However, this was History of Magic, and her sense of obligation compelled her to accept the impending conversation as it had viable, educational roots in their coursework. In all honesty, it was surprising it had taken until her announcement, which was made only weeks before the end of the term, for this particular argument to come about.

"Ms. Taylor." Addressed the professor sharply, promptly putting an end to the student's tirade. "Will you please tell me what color the sky typically is."

"Wha-" Began the bewildered girl. Her face clearly conveying that her favorite teacher had lost all sense.

"The sky, Ms. Taylor. What color is it."

"Blue, professor. But I really don't understand how that's even releve-"

"Unfortunately, Ms. Taylor, you are wrong. The color is red, not blue. Quite obviously so, I might add." The professor stated shrewdly after interrupting her student for the third time.

"Professor, that doesn't make any sense. Everyone knows the sky is blue."

"I fear you have been vastly misinformed. A great travesty it is, too."

Perplexed and flustered, the girl bubbled over in fury to hide her insecurity. Much like her professor, she was muggleborn and felt she must overcompensate for her insecurities by always knowing just a little bit more than others. It was why she was so partial to this particular teacher to begin with.

"No! The molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter red light. When we look towards the sun at sunset we see red and orange colors because the blue light has been scattered out and away from the line of sight. But during the day, when there is no cloud coverage, the sky is blue."

Her face was indignant, proud. She jutted her chin just a little bit forward to show she was confident she had just won the argument, even though she was still feeling the effects of being thrown off kilter by the original contradiction.

"While I am impressed with your knowledge of muggle science," placated the professor, "it is actually the red molecules that scatter during the day, not the blue. Perhaps you are color blind?"

"What are you talking about, professor?" Cried out in a despaired tone, now feeling hyper-insecure and personally insulted by someone she trusted.

"You are angry, I see. Why are you so upset, Ms. Taylor? Certainly, you must comprehend that by not accepting that you've been misinformed, and by being stubbornly unwilling to see otherwise, that you are passing down out of date information which ultimately leads to another generation of ignorant individuals?" Snarked the normally encouraging and nurturing professor. "The sky is red." She reinforced. "I do understand new information can be confronting, but you really must accept that this is my truth and now it is your truth. What I do not understand, however, is why you are reacting in such a volatile way."

"BECAUSE YOU'RE WRONG!" She finally shrieked as she jumped to her feet and slamming her hands down on the desk in front of her.

Shocked by her own outburst, she slowly dropped her hands, letting them hang defeatedly at her sides. The class was now eerily quiet and it seemed none of the students could bring themselves to make any sort of eye contact as their professor simply observed Ms. Taylor with a calculating gaze. When the girl finally sagged back down to her seat, she was met by the newly softened face of her professor who was now looking at her sympathetically as if imploring the student to forgive her.

"Ms. Taylor," she began in a murmur that still managed to pierce the intense stillness of the now reticent class. "We are talking about the color of the sky. Something that, really, has no bearing on our lives." She hesitantly cleared her throat to continue with a little more strength.

"Can you understand now," she said almost pleadingly, "how someone like a sixteen-year-old Draco Malfoy felt when told everything he'd been indoctrinated to believe was false? Think about the violent rage you felt when your intelligence, and a simple truth, were contradicted. Now imagine being part of a privileged and restricted circle where all you know are the truths you've been taught which validate you as special, superior, and give you confidence, meaning, and purpose. Now imagine being exposed to what is outside of your bubble only to have people tell you 'no.' To have people tell you that everything you have been bred to believe, and have been told by your doting parents, is poppycock. Imagine being told that if you do not betray your upbringing immediately, you are nothing but inbred, imbecilic, and are inherently evil. As students of the exact same age that he was at the time, can you identify how confusing, verging on disturbing, that would be?"

She paused to take a breath and look around the classroom to see comprehension slowly dawn on her students' faces.

"Now. Think about the actions you would take. Imagine, after clinging to the rose colored memories of youth, and to anything that nurtured your insecure and naive need to believe in your childhood tutelage, that you have gotten in too deep. What would you do if by the time you saw the reality of how backward everything you believed in was, it was too late to escape."

Her students were now looking around at each other and squirming in their seats, uncomfortable that their personal morals were being confronted so unapologetically.

"What would you do if you had a wand pointed at you on one side and the bridge you could have escaped on but have irreparably burned, on the other. Would you have enough conviction to turn against that wand, even if it meant your life? Your family's lives? Would you have enough courage to try and cross the bridge anyway, only to be struck in the back by that wand and knowing it would still also result in the death of your family? Or would you stand stalk still and do nothing?"

At this, there began statements of quiet indignation about how doing nothing was not an answer to the problem, while conveniently glossing over their disappointment in themselves in knowing they would not have been able to make one of the other two choices.

"Because in the case of Draco Malfoy, that 'nothing' is the reason the Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and myself, stayed alive long enough to finish the war. By choosing 'nothing,' Draco Malfoy accepted his entire existence had been a lie more readily than you would have the notion of the sky being a different color than blue."

Sharp intakes of breath were heard throughout the classroom while other students settling for gulping guiltily at their own ignorant assumptions.

Professor Granger held up her hands placatingly, understanding their resentment at realizing their black and white ideas of good and bad had just been thrown into the proverbial deep end of "the gray scale." She could understand their confusion seeing as they did not, thank Merlin, have a war-riddled childhood forcing them to understand the concept prematurely. Once the class had settled once more, she was determined to move them toward a conclusion, admonishing herself over the fact that she'd made the decision to make her announcement before she'd had her afternoon cuppa.

"You are growing up in a very different world than we did during the Second Wizarding War." She reconciled, sighing in relief that the worst of the discussion was over.

"Tolerance is a human condition, but the enforcement of it is much more a muggle standard than it is a wizarding one; although, post-WWII we have begun to set those standards into legal motion, albeit slowly."

The professor suddenly straightened herself up on her feet and clapped her hands loudly together. The students' heads snapped to attention, understanding that this meant the end of "the announcement controversy," and the beginning of the lesson.

"That being said, this tolerance is a perfect segue into our more recent human rights history. Ten points to the student who can recite the dates that legislation was finally passed for each legal rights supporting Magical Creatures marriages, by the sentient creature, and same-sex marriages in Wizarding Britain. In that order, please."

A tentative hand was raised toward the back and was immediately called upon.

"Ah! Yes, Mr. Brown, if you will."


	2. Chapter 2

By the time she flooed home through Headmistress McGonagall's office she felt like she was dragging her feet underneath what must have been lead shoulders. Kicking off her sensible pumps and plopping her stack of essays to be graded down on the coffee table, she unceremoniously plunked herself down on the couch, massaging her temples with one hand while absently burrowing her toes into the soft rug. Suddenly she felt a glass of wine being pressed into her free hand, and a most welcome set of warm lefts brush against her forehead, causing a light smile to flirt with the corners of her mouth.

"How did it go today?"

"Oh, just fine..." She murmured, eyes still closed.

"That good?" Was the snorted answer that coincided with the dip in the couch as the man sat himself down beside her, drawing her into his side.

"We talked about why the sky is blue..."

"Again?"

Silence encompassed them. Finally, she broke the quietude.

"The first year girls were all in an excited tizzy, grating but sweet." She quirked a smirk, one she'd obviously learned from him, at the memory of the little eleven-year-olds asking a thousand and one questions about the new addition to her left hand, one which was quite obviously a family heirloom from an old and wealthy family.

"It was the 6th years that were devastating." She admitted, sighing at the memory of the exhausting conversation on good, evil, and human conditions, she'd had with them. He patiently waited beside her, knowing she would elaboration once she'd gained her bearings and taken another long drink from her glass.

"Cotes du Rhone. Thank you." She looked at him appreciatively, silently thanking him for what he knew was more than just the glass of wine. After one more sip and a heavy sigh, she braced herself and relayed the events of the 6th years' class.

"I mean, I understand being shocked, many of them are still directly affected by the happenings during the war. It just- I felt like I was abandoning them on some level. Like they felt betrayed."

He took a moment to compose his thoughts before answering. He knew she was struggling to tell him all of this in a way that avoided triggering his guilt. He took in her worried face, her frazzled hair and her overly bitten bottom lip. He was once again mesmerized by her capacity for forgiveness and empathy and humbled beyond words that he was somehow in a position to witness and experience it daily.

"Hermione, love. Forgiving the repentant is not abandoning them. Falling in love is not an act of betrayal."

She turned to look at him, not just looking, but really seeing. That was his favorite part about her, he'd determined long ago. She always looked at him like she was trying to put the pieces together. Not like one would figure a puzzle, but like she was piecing together every detail of his expression to understanding what even his words couldn't convey.

"I think they are less upset about the announcement and more upset that, like every lecture with 'the Brightest Witch of the Age' Professor Granger, their fundamental ideas of morality have been shaken to the core." He used the moniker he knew she disdained to teasingly mock some laughter into her. "How you manage to turn History of Magic into an ethics and philosophy lecture is beyond me."

She swatted his stomach for his sarcastic snark and jutted her chin out in stubborn defiance until he amended his needling by telling her how much he'd have vastly preferred to take her classes over having Professor Binns... especially since she had infinitely better legs than the monotone ghost.

Grabbing her chin adoringly, he turned her head to once again look at him.

"They'll be fine, Granger. They have all summer to get used to the idea. But next term they'll understand. They'll know that all that's changed is what they call you."

She gave him an appreciative if watery, smile.

"Professor Malfoy." She murmured.

"Professor Malfoy." He confirmed as he cradled her to him. She was enjoying the comfortable silence when she felt the rumble of quiet laughter in his chest. Curious, she looked up to see his signature smirk plastered to his face.

"Draco? What are you thinking about?" She inquired cautiously, somewhat afraid of whatever devious explanation he had for her.

"I was just imagining how your class will react when they find out you're pregnant."

"Draco... I'm not pregnant."

She watched as the smirk pulled into a wolfish grin. The one he reserved just for her.

"Well, I guess we'd better practice, then."


End file.
